My Camera & My Chai: Ancient Sadists

This post features two selfies. This is advance warning. I have inflicted 9 selfies on all of you recently, with my Holi post.

You have to suffer through two more.

There has been much talk in the West, and chest thumping, about how much of what is great in the East has been arrogated by the West.

True. Very true, and all of you who live in the Western hemisphere should feel ashamed.

I am adding one more to the list.

Sadism. And, Masochism.

The Hon Marquis de Sade was not a patch on the earlier yoga practitioners, when it comes to sadism and torture.

Now, look at Selfie Number One below.

This is me doing the bhujang aasan, or the half cobra pose

I have framed this Selfie for posterity.

Look at the pins and needles poking my back. These are not physical pins, but these are the pins of agony.

Oh me, oh my. Whenever I do yoga, I seem to discover new ligaments, new bones, and new nodules of fat. Of course, what I discover most often are new nerve endings – the kind that deliver pain in the most exquisite manner.

Does the yoga teacher relent?

No. He does not.

He sees me struggling with a pose, then bends down and pushes me further into it!

I can see him chortling with an unholy glee, and the manic look in his eyes tells me that he is an emissary of Hell.

Why don’t I discover muscles?

There are none to discover.

Pain. Agony. Those damned nerve endings…. Why do we need so many ligaments? Tell me, why..

And then, you have these women who belong to the Rubber Band Club. They tie themselves into knots that Houdini would not be able to undo. What is worse, is that they do it with a coy, come-hither, smile on their faces. Damn!

Oh me, oh my.

Poor old me..

Finally, when all is said and done, you get to do the shav asana, which is the corpse pose.

Time for Selfie Number Two below

There you see me, lying flat on my back. The stars, the birds, the bees float gently around my head, as does a saintly halo.